Drink Helps?
by Loony-1995
Summary: Ron dealt with the wizarding war worse than everyone thought. Because sometimes you feel that drowning your problems is better than facing them. Song-fic: What Ya Gonna Do - Hinder


I adore the band and the song so decided I just had to do a song-fic, I don't know if there is many stories like this around and if not, why not? It's such an original story line, well in my opinion it is. What Ya Gonna Do by Hinder!  
>Enjoy :)<p>

* * *

><p><em>I'm living life with no regrets.<br>They're on the way but ain't here yet.  
>I just left Las Vegas in bad, bad shape<em>

A tall man, who only a few hours ago been able to walk in a straight line, stumbled out of a grotty pub called the Nag's Head. The war had been over for two years now and life for wizards and witches had started to run normally, but not for this man. He had once been great; everyone had trusted him and two others with the fate of the wizarding world. They all thought that he would be able to deal with it all, maybe the other two would crack, but he'd be fine; his family would be used to this, he been brought up in this wizard world.

He'd promised himself that he'd do well and would do everything he wanted to but that plan had been put on hold for a bit. Maybe for the rest of his life.

Not only did his walk and slurred speech show what had been going on but his face and body told a same story. He had deep valleys in his face from previous fights, fights not with Death Eaters but drunken fights he got himself into. His bright blue eyes that used to twinkle with laughter, no longer twinkled; they couldn't focus and might only show a glimmer of what used to be when he had a large drink in his hand. He'd had his fair share of broken bones and sprained joints but they'd healed over time and he'd got into more fights since, he'd got better at throwing a drunken punch.

_I only call home if I get the chance  
>Every other night a new romance<br>Wake up just in time to miss the day.  
>And now I'm talkin' to the man in the mirror<br>And I think I heard him say_

No one in his family knew what he was doing every day and every night; they thought he was fine and training to be an Auror in their new training camp in the Welsh mountains (no one goes near Welsh mountains so it was hidden and quiet). No one had told them different. The only man who could have told them different thought that this man had decided to become a Healer and was training in London; Harry Potter hadn't spoken to the Weasleys since the end of the war, due to his and Ginny's relationship not working.

He gave a tipsy wolf-whistle to a group of young, good-looking witches, they just tutted and yelled insults at him. Maybe if they'd seen him before the height of the war, their reaction would be totally the opposite. But not anymore. He was just another drunk. His sparkle was gone.

He managed to walk the stairs to his small flat without too many falls (it was his least to date, only five falls for the three floors he had to climb) and was able to open his door, after trying ten times to get the key in the lock.

He needed to pee.

With an urgent drunken walk, he reached the toilet in time but there would be a little bit of a mess to clean up tomorrow morning. He wouldn't care; he wouldn't clean it. He splashed his face with cold water, swore at its temperature and looked up into the mirror.

_What ya gonna do when the whiskey ain't working no more?  
>When life don't feel like before<br>What ya gonna do?  
>What ya gonna do?<br>When the ride ain't climbing anymore, nobody's beatin' down your door  
>What ya gonna do?<em>

This was the first time in two years that he'd seen his drunken state. He would normally have passed out after he'd used the loo. This was a record; his body was able to take in more alcohol before he reached his usual wasted state.

He didn't like what he saw.

He looked like an Azkaban prisoner and a tramp had had a love child. Dirty, grim, cheap, untrustworthy and stale.

And his life quality was the same. His clothes were all ripped, dirty and smelt. This wasn't the life he had wanted. He had wanted a high quality life with money, a great job and a family.

But before he could think any more about his horrid state, he passed out, nearly hitting his head on the sink.

_And I'm still closing down these streets,  
>I'm high enough to make believe<br>That I ain't ever gonna hit the ground_

It was the next week and Ron was walking to the Nag's Head, he was closing in on his bar seat. That would be his home until he ran out of money or was kicked out. This week Ron was trying something else out.

Drugs.

He didn't really know who he'd got them from or what sort they were; he'd been drunk. But he didn't think it could hurt to try and at the moment he felt great. Everything was lovely, great and fun. Life was great.

Nothing could harm him anymore. The dark nightmares wouldn't come back, he wouldn't see those haunting faces anymore and he wouldn't have flashes of deaths in his head. Everything would be calm and great.

_The one that got away from me  
>Every now and then she calls to see<br>If I'm alive or plan to settle down  
>Well, I called her drunk last night<br>And I think I heard her say_

He'd been drinking for around two hours now; he still wasn't halfway through his drinking session.

There was a new barmaid today; well he thought she was new. She had long brown wavy hair and deep brown eyes and her face was like someone's who he'd loved. He didn't think he loved her anymore; she wasn't Fire Whiskey.

She would have sometimes call Ron, waking him from his drunken slumber, and ask how he was and what he was doing. After the kiss, nothing had really happened. Ron thought she'd figured it out and his theory had been confirmed when she'd visited him last year.

It had been eleven and Ron had been kicked out early, due to the fact he'd started a riot in the Dragon's Head (his ex-pub, until he was banned two months ago but Ron knew that this pub wouldn't bar him; he was their best customer). He'd left the door open and she'd walked straight in. He had just been sick and had attempted to kiss her.  
>She rejected.<br>He got angry.  
>Ron had then processed to trash and smash his entire flat in a matter of minutes.<br>Hermione had been so shocked.  
>She didn't help to tidy up or fix Ron's new, furniture-inflicted wounds.<br>She'd run and cried.

She'd only called once since.

Ron was going to call her.

Right now.

She'd like to talk to him; Dave, his "friend" had passed out an hour ago and Bruce was sorting out divorce papers tonight.

He waded through the drunken mass to the wizard telephone – since the war there had been an increase of muggle objects into the wizarding world. He dialled in her number, how he managed to remember it is one of the greatest mysteries of the 21st century.

_What ya gonna do when the whiskey ain't working no more?  
>When life don't feel like before<br>What ya gonna do?  
>What ya gonna do?<br>When the ride ain't climbing anymore, nobody's beatin' down your door  
>What ya gonna do?<br>_  
>'Hello – hic.'<p>

'Err hello this is Cormac McLaggen speaking, who is this?'

'McLaggen? Bloody hell!' The phone quickly changed hands.

'Ron?'

'What's King Slug doing there?'

'Nothing-,' the phone changed.

'I'm her fiancée.'

'WHAT!' Ron roared.

'Ron, Ron listen,' she ordered, the phone had changed hands again, and Ron's drunken state obeyed. Ron heard Hermione move.

'Just listen to yourself, you're drunk out of your mind. I couldn't deal with you anymore, this isn't you Ron. This isn't the Ron I fell in love with. This is someone new. How long is this pissed person going to stay like this for? You haven't got a job and your money's going to run out soon and I don't want to be there when it does. I don't see how I can help. I love Cormac because,'

Suddenly Ron slammed down the phone. Hermione was left calling Ron's name to no one.

* * *

><p>There was a knock at the door.<p>

'I'll go, you just stay there,' said Cormac softly, he left Hermione on the sofa and went to see who was there at such a late time in the night.

He opened the door and before he could give a greeting, he got a hard punch straight in the face. His nose bones cracked and splintered under the huge force. But the visitor wasn't done yet.

_I can't sleep and I can't hide  
>'Cause the voices in my head are getting louder<br>Getting louder every night._

_I'm living life with no regrets.  
>They're on the way but ain't here yet.<em>

Hermione jumped up to see a very angry Ron standing in the front doorway. He growled like a wolf and stalked in, his eyes watching his weakened prey. Cormac dazedly got up and looked at his attacker. He only got a blurred view when he was rugby tackled to the ground.

There was no yelling, just punching. It took two punches before Cormac realised what was happening and started to fight back. His punches and kicks were useless thought. Ron was drunk, he didn't understand much about pain and he was the angry kind of drunk.

Hermione knew she couldn't try and break it up without getting hit and probably knocked out and she couldn't fire a curse in fear of hitting Cormac. She had to get help.

She ran out of the door in search of helpers.

This was a new wizarding block of flats and quite a few wizards and witches who Hermione knew had also moved in here.

Meanwhile, Ron's attack was getting worse and Cormac was losing and fading. Yet those little voices in his head kept yelling at him to continue. This man had taken the one thing he loved away and he deserved what Ron gave him. They got louder and louder.

Soon there were shouts around him.

Suddenly he was pulled off.

It took four men to hold him still.

'Ron?' Gasped a female voice that had been the soundtrack to his childhood.

'Mum?' He hiccupped.

'I think he's been drinking since the end of the war, I only found out a year ago. I just couldn't bring myself to tell you and, and I thought you knew,' said Hermione quietly as she knelt by Cormac's side; he hadn't passed out just yet.

'I thought he was in Wales training to be an Auror,' she sat down slowly and looked away from Ron; she couldn't see her son in this state.

Harry, Charlie, Bill and George put Ron in a chair and stood around him, keeping guard. Harry had a flat on the same level as Hermione and George had one just above. Molly, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Ginny and Arthur had been staying over for a little, they hadn't been all together since the end of the war and the Burrow was being done-up; George had kindly offered his very spacious flat – it almost took up the whole top floor. The family were all there, minus Percy who had had to go away on urgent business.

Molly and the rest of the Weasleys looked to Harry.

'Well, I thought he was training to be a Healer, here in London,' soon it was established that no one had known about this Ron.

'Are you okay dear?' Molly asked gently to Cormac, he gave a small nod as Hermione and Ginny checked him over. Ron's eyes burned and he gave a small wolf growl.

_What ya gonna do when the whiskey ain't working no more?  
>When life don't feel like before<br>What ya gonna do?  
>What ya gonna do?<br>When the ride ain't climbing anymore, nobody's beatin' down your door  
>What ya gonna do?<em>

Suddenly she turned to her son.

'Why Ron? Why?' Ron laughed.

'Bloody hell! What a stupid question!' He laughed again, but went on to explain. 'I see things. I have these nightmares about the war, about what I saw. I see people die. Their deaths reply in my head. Drinking helps so much. It washes them away. No more nasty things. Everything's fine.' He paused. 'But it's stared to stop working. I'm seeing thing again. Things I don't want to see. So I've started to drink more but it doesn't work,' he looked into his Mother's eyes and everyone else looked into his; they saw haunted eyes. Dead eyes.

They could all imagine what he was seeing but yet they all knew that he must have seen more than they had; Ron was probably the strongest out of all of them and yet he was being haunted by this. That's why they'd never seen it coming. With George, his Twin had died and they'd stopped him before he had started on the drink. But with Ron, no one thought he'd become like this. Ron had always been fine. Ron didn't need their help. Ron wouldn't need their help.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

_What ya gonna do when the whiskey ain't working no more?  
>When life don't feel like before<br>What ya gonna do?  
>What ya gonna do now?<br>When the ride ain't climbing anymore, nobody's beatin' down your door  
>What ya gonna do?<em>

Slowly, they managed to get Ron off the drink; little by little the old Ron came back. It was decided that they would tell no one about this _little _incident. They got Ron on a Healer training course; they now knew that being an Auror wasn't really the right career for Ron. They didn't want him back on the drink.

He didn't need the drink anymore, now he had his family. He began to forget about Hermione and made a new life for himself. His family kept an eye on him. He was getting on well. He passed his course with flying colours. They said he'd make a great Healer.

He would get people knocking on his door, thanking him for what he'd done for them; how he'd helped them and had made their life better. Ron cared. Family and friends would regularly knock on his door and see how he was. Everything was good.

Then one day, he saw something which rocked his world.

Hermione and Cormac but Hermione was pregnant and holding another child's hand.

She didn't love him.

Ron thought there could have been a future for them two; he was on the straight and narrow. He had a good job and a good circle of friends. He was going to call her. Tell her what he'd done. What he was like now. Tell her he loved her.

_What ya gonna do when the whiskey ain't working no more?  
>Life don't feel like before<br>What ya gonna do?_

And if you happen to pass a pub called the Nag's Head, you're sure to find a tall, red-haired, scarred man with dead eyes sitting on a worn red bar-stall and he'll be completely and absolutely wasted.

* * *

><p><em>Just a little message due to some questions about Hermione that I've been asked; many have asked why did Hermione try and help?<br>Well, I can tel you that she did. But Ron's state of mind didn't remember! This is written in 3rd person but we follow Ron's view (you didn't get details about Hermione running off to get help) and so if Ron passes out and he doesn't remember or see Hermione helping him, then we don't read about it either. Also Hermione didn't tell Ron's family or Harry because - as we all know - he was once very proud of himself and doesn't like getting any sort of help from anyone, let alone his family who he believes who just laugh at him._

_I hope that little message clears up any doubts you had about Hermione's helping. :)_


End file.
